The Disgraced Lord
by missaphelion
Summary: No one ever taught Chris how to lie. It was instinct, built in: assess the situation, talk your way out. Wyatt was always the honest one. It amused Chris, in a morbid sort of way, that Wyatt fought for evil with honor, whilst he fought for good in disgrace. It was enough to make him wonder if maybe Wyatt was right after all, and there weren't any such things. Unchanged Future.
1. New World Order

Note: This story is going to be very heavily focused on Chris, and on others' impressions of him. Wyatt, Paige, Phoebe, Henry and Bianca will be in most of the story, with secondary characters of Coop and one of Phoebe's daughters. I'll probably just gloss over the rest of the family, as they're not going to be the focus here. I'm sure Leo and Piper will get mentions, but in this unchanged future they are both already dead.

Also, this prologue takes place two years before the rest of the story, right when Wyatt is turning eighteen. So there will be a time jump for Chapter 1.

* * *

Prologue (New World Order):

They were having their usual Sunday dinner, when it happened.

Wyatt was late, which was typical, so they had already begun to eat. Then the walls started to shudder, with such an ominous thrum riding past all the windows that Chris was surprised when not one of them broke. They parted the curtains and that was when they saw the sky had gone dark, with wide, flat storm clouds blocking out most of the sun. There was just enough light left to glance the off the outlines of the dragons that were gliding past the suburban streets, looking just exactly as if they belonged there.

They called for Leo first, but he never came. They tried Wyatt desperately, but there was no answer. None of the doors would open, none of the windows would open, and no spell they tried would let them out.

The house across the street disappeared in a rush of fire and smoke, but nothing touched them. Debris bounced off the manor with a blue tinged glow and just ricocheted straight off.

That was when Chris knew.

The rest of the family kept rushing around, up into the attic and back to the kitchen, down to the basement and up again—searching for texts or spells or potions that would get them out, that would save them, save the world. They called for Leo every few minutes, for Wyatt with every other breath.

Chris just stood there by the window, watching the destruction. He knew there was nothing they could do, and he knew Wyatt would not answer their calls.

Because the only one that could have done this was Wyatt himself.

They weren't trapped here just so they couldn't help, they were trapped here so they'd be safe. Wyatt had locked them all up out of the way, and then set out to destroy everything else.

Chris looked out at the raging storm, at the broken innocents and their terror, and all he could think was this was Wyatt's pain, come to life. Come to haunt all the rest of them.

* * *

They were locked in the house for three weeks before Wyatt came for them. They had been rationing food since the beginning, but there was nothing left by the time he got there. They'd given most of it to the little kids, and Chris had refused to eat the last week. He knew his aunts and uncles probably hadn't anything substantial in even longer than that.

They were weakened and tired and distraught, and that was when Wyatt came. Chris knew it had been a calculated move on his part. He watched Wyatt shimmer into existence and it occured to him then that maybe he should have warned them.

He had told no one of his suspicions. He'd let them worry over Wyatt this whole time because somehow that had seemed better. That still left them hope, which Chris had lost.

There was no hope now, no making this better. It was time for damage control.

"Wyatt," Phoebe said with relief, jumping to her feet to greet him. She didn't seem to notice or care that he hadn't orbed in, but shimmered. She reached out and grabbed him in a hug, and Wyatt let her do it, with a strange, flat smile that set Chris's teeth on edge.

This wasn't his brother. It couldn't be. Chris went through possibilities: possession? corruption? a spell?

He couldn't understand how no one else _noticed_.

"I'm glad you are all safe," Wyatt said, so oddly formally that Chris had to catch his breath. It was like he was acting in a play, rehearsing a part. Chris narrowed his eyes as he edged across the room.

Paige was always more practical than Phoebe, so she was standing back, assessing Wyatt and his new clothes. He was head to toe in black—admittedly, these days he usually was, but there was something different about this. Chris watched the way the light hit the edge of his shirt, reflecting off it strangely, shimmering and painting it red. Like it was covered in dried blood.

Henry, always the cop, was putting the pieces together fast. Chris watched as things began to take shape in his mind, as he stood to make sure he kept the kids behind him. Paige stepped awkwardly up beside him, following his cues, coming to her own conclusions.

"Wyatt, what have you done?"

Chris startled at the voice, turning to see his cousin Prue, Phoebe's oldest daughter, looking at Wyatt in disbelief. She was an empath too, a stronger one even than Phoebe, though the trade-off was that it was the only power she had. She looked a little sick, like she was getting a read on Wyatt through whatever blocks he had up, and wasn't liking what she'd found.

Wyatt's eyes sought Chris as he gave his answer, though it was Prue who had asked. "I have avenged our mother," he said. "And brought order to the world."

"Oh my god," Phoebe gasped, her voice ending on a sob. She reached out with one hand to grab Coop. "Oh my god."

"No, you wouldn't do that," Paige said, but her voice was steel, like she already knew he could. "The Wyatt I know would never do that."

"I am the Wyatt you know," Wyatt said, pulling his eyes from Chris. "We no longer have anything to fear in this world. I have ended the reign of the Elders, of their guard dogs, the Cleaners. I have burned their Tribunal to dust."

"So many people, so many innocents," Phoebe said, her eyes filled with tears. "I don't understand. I don't understand how you could do something this evil."

Wyatt stepped forward and knelt in front of her, his expression almost kind. "There is no such thing as good and evil," he said, as though explaining something to a child. "They're just fairytales we tell ourselves to give us reason for things we've done. If the fighting is ever to end, we need to rise above that."

"What do you mean by that?" Phoebe asked. "Who told you that? Of course there's good, Wyatt, you've seen it, you must have—"

Wyatt just watched her with something like pity, and Chris could see that there was nothing they could say. Their reasoning would not work, because Wyatt was too far gone in his delusions. Chris had to discard his theories, because he could still see his brother somewhere beneath all of this façade. This wasn't possession or some spell, as much as he had wanted it to be.

"You bastard," Paige snarled, before raising a hand. "Table!"

She orbed the table into Wyatt, knocking him back from Phoebe. He only got hit a few feet away, and his eyes flashed as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

"You're going to undo this," Paige said. "Whatever it is you've done. You're going to undo it."

"What's done cannot be undone," Wyatt said.

"Don't you quote Shakespeare at me," Paige said, looking angrier than Chris had ever seen her. "Your mother must be rolling in her grave."

It was the wrong thing to say. Chris knew that whatever else had happened, Wyatt had loved their mother. He had adored her every bit as much Chris. He had been devastated every bit as much as him. But where Chris had internalized his pain, Wyatt had let his loose on the world.

He could see an energy ball forming in Wyatt's hand, his eyes going unnaturally bright, and Chris knew it was time to act. He could throw Wyatt back with his power, but knew he could never win in a fight. He wasn't prepared for a battle, and even if he were, he didn't want to hurt his brother.

He had to buy them time.

Chris smoothly stepped into Wyatt's line of sight, putting himself between Wyatt and the rest of their family. "It's no use, Wyatt," he said softly. "They'll never understand."

Wyatt closed his palm and the energy ball sparked out of existence. He watched Chris carefully, uncertain what he was planning. Wyatt knew Chris had a tendency to play both sides. He'd been an expert at it with their parents.

"They don't know anything but this," Chris continued, not breaking eye contact. "Good and Evil."

"And you do?" Wyatt asked, and his voice was gruff, almost dismissive, but Chris could see the hope threaded beneath it.

"Yes," Chris said simply. "I understand why you've done this."

"You say you understand," Wyatt said, as he carefully got to his feet. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you agree. You forget I know how you play with words."

"If you want words, then listen to these," Chris said. "They aren't a threat to you, so let's just leave them to their lives. We don't need them."

"We," Wyatt said with a smirk, looking pleased. "Well then, little brother, how about you? What do you believe in?"

"I believe in you," Chris said, without flinching. And like all the best lies, it was even almost true.

Wyatt laughed and reached out and grabbed him. The last thing Chris heard before they shimmered away were the outraged cries of his family.

* * *

"This can't be happening," Phoebe said. "This seriously can't be happening. They couldn't just—"

"Didn't you feel him, mom?" Prue asked. "Wyatt's gone. It's like he's a black hole. He's just gone. We have to save Chris."

"Save Chris?" Paige sneered. She was trying to focus on her tasks—she had already put up an anti-orbing field, along with any other protection fields she could think of. "Chris is just as lost to us as Wyatt, or weren't you here for that?"

"Yes, I was here for that, though I seem to be the only one that understands what just happened," Prue yelled back. "Wyatt was about to kill you."

"Wyatt wouldn't—" Paige started.

"Wyatt was about to _kill you_," Prue repeated slowly. "And Chris stopped him. That's what I saw."

"He was siding with his brother," Paige said, though all her anger seemed to have deflated. "You know how close they are."

"That's not it at all," Prue said. "Don't you get it? Chris made a trade, him for the rest of us!"

"He said he understood Wyatt," Phoebe said uncertainly. "He went with him."

"He was lying!" Prue shouted. "It's practically his superpower."

"She has a point," Henry said. "And before Chris stepped in, I'm not sure…well, it didn't look like Wyatt was just going to let us all walk away."

"Yes, thank you," Prue said.

"It doesn't matter," Phoebe said softly. "Even if it's true, even if he's only stalling to give us time, it doesn't matter. We can't save him now he's with Wyatt, we can barely save ourselves."

"We can contact him, at least. We can call for him," Prue protested. "You have to lift the blocks so he can reach us."

"We can't take that chance, honey," Phoebe insisted. "If Chris is with Wyatt, well he's powerful too. We don't have any hope of stopping the two of them together without a plan, not without the power of three."

"Phoebe's right," Paige said. "We've got to get the kids somewhere safe, and then we'll figure out a game plan."

"This isn't fair," Prue shouted. "You can't just abandon him! He's only a year older than me. Would you abandon me?"

"You didn't go with him," Coop pointed out gently.

"I would have, if I'd thought of it first," Prue said, before dropping down on the couch, angrily turning away from her family.

"I'm not saying we're not going to save him," Paige said carefully. "Because we will. We're going to save them both. We just have to be smart about it."

"You still don't get it," Prue said quietly. "He's the one that's saving us."


	2. Lord Christopher

_Two years later_

No one ever taught Chris how to lie. It was instinct, built in—assess the situation, talk your way out. Wyatt was always the honest one. It amused Chris, in a morbid sort of way, that Wyatt fought for evil with honor, whilst he fought for good in disgrace. It was enough to make him think maybe Wyatt was right after all, and there weren't any such things.

But then he'd think of his mother, and he'd know. There had to be good in this world or he never would have had her, and without evil he never would have lost her.

He knew he had to be strong. Not like Wyatt was strong, not with _power_, because that was never his greatest strength. Chris was a chameleon.

So he became Lord Christopher.

He went with Wyatt to his palace underneath the world, deep down where their family could not find them. He helped him slay his demons, helped reinforce his power. He stood by his side, under Wyatt's watchful gaze, and he played his part.

And then he became Perry, and began to play another.

* * *

"Happy birthday, little brother."

Chris didn't bother to turn around. "You know I don't celebrate this day," he said quietly.

"But I want to," Wyatt said. "So we will."

Chris glanced towards him, pulling his eyes from the window. Chris had once complained about the view, and had woken the next morning to find Wyatt had enchanted all of the windows to look out on green fields, with white-peaked mountains in the distance. Chris couldn't decide if this was better or if it was worse.

Wyatt held out a small wrapped present, and Chris took it without comment. Wyatt almost seemed to fawn over him, at times. Showering him with strange little presents or bizarre gifts that Chris never wanted but didn't dare refuse. They never came without a price—Chris had spent more than a few nights in Wyatt's dungeons, over vague little slights.

He'd learned to pick his battles. He would pretend to enjoy his birthday, and maybe Wyatt wouldn't notice when two of his prisoners disappeared in the middle of the night.

He unwrapped the silver bow and lifted the lid of the box. He froze when he saw what it held inside. It was just a small amulet, a little blue stone. It looked simple, but it was actually a very intricate little key.

"I thought it was time you were able to orb in and out," Wyatt said, grinning slyly, looking pleased with himself.

Wyatt gave very few the power to come and leave his palace by magical means, only granting it to one or two of his most trusted demons. He had never allowed Chris that freedom. He'd just laugh any time that he asked, claiming it was for his own protection. He'd never been allowed to leave without Wyatt.

_"It's not that I don't trust you,"_ he would whisper, with a smirk.

Chris had found ways around his restrictions easily enough, but this would help. This might make the difference, so long as Wyatt wasn't still watching his every move. Wyatt's own whitelighter powers had faded almost out of existence, so he might not be able to track him. Not accurately.

"Thank you," he said, rolling the stone in the palm of his hand. He glanced up. "Does this mean I no longer have a curfew?"

"You are eighteen," Wyatt said. "But if you starting making trouble I'll take it away."

Wyatt said it gently, like a father threatening to take the keys to the car. But Chris knew if he got into trouble he'd be facing something much worse than that. Wyatt had learned pretty early on that Chris could take his punishments with grace—but then he'd learned the trick of making others suffer in his place.

"That doesn't sound like me at all," Chris said, smiling slightly as he turned back to the window. "I hope you're not planning a surprise party. You know I tend to vanquish demons when they jump out at me."

"It is a bad habit of yours," Wyatt agreed. "And no, I have a much better surprise for you. Come with me."

It wasn't a request, so Chris stood.

Wyatt led him to one of the restricted wings. He had not allowed even Chris to follow him here before now. They entered a large ballroom, with a high vaulted ceiling, majestic though it looked rusted. Beauty never lasted in the Underworld very long.

Wyatt waved his hand and a doorway appeared at the other end of the hall. He grinned at Chris. "Come," he said simply.

The first year, Chris would have snapped at him that he wasn't his dog. But since then he's learned when to hold his tongue.

He would still antagonize Wyatt the way only a little brother could, when the mood was right, when Wyatt wanted it. He just had to be careful not to do it when anyone else was there, or Wyatt was too deep in thought to remember that used to be who they were.

"Chris," Wyatt said impatiently.

Chris followed him quickly into the room. The ceilings here were the same, though they seemed to be holding up a bit better. There was a mural painted across the ceiling like something from the Sistine Chapel. At first he could only see the white and the red, the slips of light and color. Then he realized what it was.

The massacre of the Elders.

And laid out beneath it, on a podium in the middle of the room, was the Book of Shadows.

It was so incongruous that Chris felt his breath catch. He didn't know if Wyatt had placed it here, in this room, as an act of defiance or revenge. The Elders had tried to take the Book from Wyatt, and he'd killed them all.

Chris hadn't been this close to the book since long before then. He could feel its magic wrapping around him, calling him closer.

"May I?" Chris asked, glancing over to Wyatt for permission.

Wyatt laughed slightly and waved his hand towards the book. "It is why I brought you here."

Chris stepped up the podium. He remembered sneaking out of his room at night just to flip through these pages. Three of the spells inside were his, all written before he turned fourteen.

He hesitantly reached out and ran his fingers across the cover, feeling along the groves of the broken triquetra. He could feel the magic respond to him at once, coming alive beneath his fingertips. The triquetra let out a slight glow, vibrating for a moment before laying still.

"It doesn't do that for me," Wyatt said, though he sounded interested more than angry. "I wonder why that is."

Chris figured it was because the book was made up of good magic, and it would fight against Wyatt's change even if it wouldn't reject him entirely. But that wasn't what Wyatt would want to hear.

"Maybe it's because we're here together," Chris said, glancing up at him.

Wyatt laughed. "You always know exactly the right thing to say," he said. "It makes me wonder if I can trust anything you say at all."

"You would prefer I make you mad?" Chris asked. "Because I'm pretty good at that too."

"That you are," he agreed with a laugh. "This probably goes without saying, but this book doesn't leave the room."

"Can I come here?" Chris asked, turning to follow Wyatt as he paced around the podium. "I mean, by myself?"

"Yes," Wyatt said. "So long as it stays here, I don't see any harm. You already have the whole thing memorized in any case."

"It's not the same," Chris said, lifting a hand and flicking a finger to flip the page. "This is all we have left of them."

"We have the manor," Wyatt reminded him.

Chris gave a bitter laugh. "A ridiculous tourist trap," he said, "for mortals too hopeless to realize what any of it means. You've made a mockery of everything they stood for."

"Ah," Wyatt said dangerously. "And there's the other side to your silver tongue. You know very well why I had to do that."

"You did it for power," Chris said, glancing up. "Just like you do everything. But it's given you less, not more. I tried to tell you that then."

"Perhaps you're right," Wyatt said. "But it hardly matters now. There's no going back home, Christopher."

Chris shut the book with a wave of his hand. "No, I don't suppose there is." He looked over at Wyatt. "But would you, if you could?"

"No," Wyatt said simply. "Let's go. You can play with the book later."

Wyatt marched out of the room and Chris stepped back from the podium. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up and spun around, his eyes crawling up to the ceiling where the Elders were drawn along the tiles. He wondered who Wyatt had gotten to paint this—their faces, their expressions, were terrified but perfectly cast. He could recognize almost every single one of them as people he'd known.

He was just turning to leave when he glimpsed something out of place. One of the elders was smiling, even as he held his burned out chest, and his sparkling eyes followed Chris from the room.

Chris was pretty sure his name had been Gideon.


	3. The Prophecy

Wyatt had kept Chris close the entire day. They'd had lunch together, and then Wyatt had a clan of demon girls, shape-shifters, transform into exotic dancers to perform for them. Chris had slouched in the seat and pretended to be interested, pretended that he couldn't see them for what they really were, like there wasn't a horn-edged silhouette laid to the left of their skin.

Wyatt was trying, he guessed.

But Chris couldn't care less that this was the day he was turning eighteen. He had a mission tonight, and it wasn't the time to get distracted. Two Resistance team leaders had been caught, and they were too valuable to lose. So Chris had been plotting to get them out.

He glanced at the round blue key hanging around his neck, and a new plan began to form. Why save only two? he wondered. There were another hundred and forty-five innocent prisoners in Wyatt's dungeons, some of them children.

Chris had struck a bargain with Wyatt at the beginning of all of this, that he would only stay so long as Wyatt didn't slaughter innocents. Wyatt had agreed in only one sense—he wouldn't harm those that _he_ believed to be innocent, and Chris had found their opinions on the matter were not similar at all.

Most mortals were safe, of course. There were some areas of the world where you could almost believe that nothing had changed. Wyatt had a taste for theatrics—he liked to build museums in his honor, statues of himself like he's King. He didn't bother those that worshipped him.

Witches were another matter, because Wyatt didn't see them as neutral. He saw them as a threat. So they either joined or they were tried with treason, and tossed in the dungeons until they either conceded or Wyatt felt they'd served their purpose and ordered them killed.

The count was up to a hundred forty seven with the two Resistance members, and that wasn't acceptable. Chris never liked just disappearing with one or two prisoners at a time. He wanted to save them all.

"What are you thinking of, little brother?" Wyatt asked quietly.

Chris glanced over at him, grateful that for all of Wyatt's many powers, telepathy had never been one of them.

"Mom," he said, and it was true, because she was in everything she did. She was the reason he hadn't given in.

"I think she would have been happy here," Wyatt said.

"She would have grounded you for life," Chris laughed.

Wyatt smiled softly, and it looked nearly genuine. "Yes, you're right," he said. "But she would have been safe."

Chris sighed and looked back towards the stage, back to those dancers and their ridiculous spectacle. "Are you happy, Wy?" he asked quietly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Wyatt asked.

"They say it's lonely at the top," Chris told him wryly, turning his head back to watch him.

"That's what I keep you around for," Wyatt said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to drag Chris up. "Come on. We're having dinner."

"All this and dinner too?" Chris asked. "Please tell me you didn't cook."

"I hope you're not insinuating that I'm less than perfect at something," Wyatt said, but this time the dangerous edge to his voice was playful.

"I certainly didn't mean to," Chris said. "I rather meant to say it outright."

Wyatt was relaxed for once, natural with him in a way he hadn't been for years. He was also distracted, which was why he didn't notice when one of the dancers didn't disappear with all the rest. Chris frowned as he saw her reach for something at her waist: an athame.

Chris reacted before he knew what he was doing. He waved a hand to knock Wyatt out of the way, before standing in his place and lifting a hand to stop the athame in its tracks. He held it suspended for a moment, before flicking his wrist and sending it into the wall. He stepped towards the assassin, trying to reach her before she fled, but felt himself getting dragged back.

He felt all the air go out of him as he hit the back wall hard, and glanced up in disbelief to see Wyatt glaring at him. "Stay back," Wyatt snarled, before turning his attention to the assassin.

Chris narrowed his eyes and started to step forward again, only to find Wyatt had trapped him against the wall with a fragment of his shield. "Wyatt!" he shouted.

Wyatt ignored him, twisting his hand to catch onto the assassin before she could reach the door and then pushing out to slam her against the ceiling. Chris could see her reaching for her throat, and knew just what Wyatt was doing. He'd found himself in a similar position himself, once or twice, though Wyatt had never looked nearly as angry with him as he did with her.

"What is your name, assassin?" he demanded.

She didn't respond and Chris watched as all the color disappeared from her. He wasn't sure exactly what Wyatt was doing to her, but it wasn't anything good.

"I said give me your name!" Wyatt shouted, before lifting a hand and forming an energy ball. He wasted no time in sending it straight at her shoulder.

Her clothes burned to shreds and her skin blackened, but Chris could see the blood gathering up beneath it. His breath caught.

"Wyatt," he tried again. "Wyatt, stop! She's not a demon!"

Wyatt pulled his hand back, dragging the woman down from the ceiling and pulling her closer until she was on her knees before him. Chris pushed at the shield in irritation, but he knew he wasn't going anywhere until Wyatt wanted him to.

"Demons come in many forms, little brother," Wyatt told him, not taking his eyes from the woman. "She is a Phoenix, and close enough. Who hired you?"

"I will tell you nothing," she said.

"They all say that," Wyatt said, his sneer morphing into a wide, easy grin. It made him look far more terrifying.

Chris watched as she reached for something with her hand, and prepared to warn his brother until he realized the weapon was not for Wyatt. He'd seen what Wyatt had done to those he tortured. He closed his mouth and said nothing as she broke the potion against the ground beside her.

A fire flared up around her along the floor. Her scream echoed through the hall, piercing his ears as it cut off unnaturally. She burned to death in seconds, leaving nothing but ashes as the fire burnt itself out.

Wyatt glared at the floor where she had been. "I wasn't done with her," he snarled.

Chris knew that however painful that death might have been, Wyatt would have done much worse to her. "Are you going to let me out now?" Chris demanded. "Wyatt!"

Wyatt waved a hand dismissively and the shield disappeared. Chris glanced towards the doorway when he felt he was being watched, and saw one of the palace guards step straight back into the shadows. She was one that he knew well. Wyatt had appointed her as his bodyguard back at the beginning—his babysitter, if you'd asked her.

She was the toughest person he knew, and for some reason she was crying.

Chris pulled his eyes away before Wyatt could see what had drawn his attention. Wyatt never looked kindly on emotions being displayed, especially not by his personal guard.

Chris just couldn't understand what could have possibly happened that could make Bianca cry.

"And you," Wyatt snarled suddenly, spinning around and grabbing his wrist, shimmering them both out of the room.

Chris came back to himself feeling nauseous, his vision blacking out around the edges. He never could handle shimmering. "Wyatt, what—"

Wyatt pulled a chair up behind Chris and pushed him into it, letting go of his wrist only to cage him in with both his hands on the arms of the chair. Chris swallowed as he realized they were in Wyatt's office, where Chris was only ever brought to be lectured or punished.

"I need you to listen to me very carefully," Wyatt said, his voice so controlled that Chris wouldn't have dreamed of doing anything else. "Never get between me and an attack again."

His voice was so laced through with cold that Chris almost missed what was beneath it. Fear.

Except that nothing scared Wyatt.

"You didn't see her," Chris said defensively. "I was only—"

"I can take care of myself," Wyatt told him, pushing away in frustration. "You're the one that's vulnerable. You won't do it again."

Chris glared up at him defiantly. "If you think I'm just gonna stand by while someone is trying to _kill you_—"

"You will do as I say, or I will assign guards to ensure it," Wyatt shouted.

"Fine," Chris said smoothly, but Wyatt just narrowed his eyes, spotting the lie.

"This is the third assassin this month," Wyatt said, his voice playing now at being gentle. "I'm not worried about them getting near me, but eventually they're going to wise up and realize you're my weakness."

"Gee, thanks, Wy," Chris said. "Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"

"You know what I mean," Wyatt said in frustration. "They will use you to get to me. I can't allow that. I need you to stay in the palace for now. I can't have you wandering around the underworld."

Chris's eyes widened as he realized what Wyatt was implying. "No!" he snapped. "No, I'm not giving it back. You just gave it to me and I haven't even used it yet!"

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "You can keep the key for now," he said. "But you must promise to go nowhere without me."

"I promise," Chris said easily.

Wyatt reached out and grabbed his chin roughly, his fingers digging into his skin as he turned Chris's head up to meet his eyes. "Christopher."

"I promise!" Chris insisted.

Chris felt a burst of warmth right before Wyatt let him go, as his brother healed the bruises before they could even form. For all the battles he'd been in, Chris still didn't have a single scar on him. He'd received any number of wounds, some of them from Wyatt himself, but he never let him keep the evidence.

_"Some say scars are important,"_ Wyatt had told him once. "_A sign of power, a sign they've survived. But we're not just powerful, we're untouchable, and there's never going to be a single mark on either of us. Never forget that, brother. It sets us apart."_

It was one of Wyatt's many contradictions.

"Go get some sleep," Wyatt said tiredly.

Chris didn't have to be told twice. He orbed away before his brother could change his mind, and take the key back. Chris had plans—and it wouldn't do to be without it now.

* * *

Wyatt shimmered at the foot of an altar. He glanced around, tracing the shadows that the hundreds of small candles had sent flickering across the walls. He found what he was looking for at the other end of the room.

"Has it changed?" Wyatt asked softly.

The woman stepped forward. Her hair was braided all down her back, and her eyes were solid black. She stepped closer deftly, though she could not see the room in any ordinary sense.

"The future I've seen for your brother remains the same," she told him, her voice indifferent. "He will die to save you."

Wyatt screamed in frustration, throwing his hand out to send a table crashing into the wall. "I should have known better than to trust a promise from him," he snarled. "He's defiant to the end, just like our mother. But I will not allow him to suffer the same fate."

The Prophetess had first informed him of his brother's impending death a year ago. He had enlisted every seer he could find since then to tell him his brother's fate, but none could see it but her. He had wondered at first if she was playing him, making herself important, making herself _indispensable_. But he'd tested her resolve in his dungeons and knew she wouldn't lie to him now.

He had to face the truth. A prophet could see further than any seer—they were the ones that wrote the prophecies, laid out the futures. One just like her had christened him twice-blessed. The trade-off of their power was that they riddled their responses, only offering a guideline, instead of the full picture.

"And you have seen nothing else?" Wyatt demanded. He didn't have enough to go on, and he knew even he couldn't keep Chris constantly under watch. Chris would grow suspicious of his reasons, eventually, and rebel.

"There was a child with him," she said after a moment. "And an Elder."

"The Elders are dead," Wyatt told her.

"It is what I have seen," she said calmly, her strange blank gaze not wavering from his.

"And where the hell am I?" he demanded. "Where are his guards? How is it he's saving me if I'm not even there?"

"You know very well what I've told you," she said. "You've gone over it a thousand times. I can tell you nothing else."

Wyatt turned away in frustration. He knew the prophecy as she saw it. Chris would die slowly from the strike of a cursed athame, to save Wyatt's life.

"I want him guarded," Wyatt told her. "At all times. Send Bianca, she knows most of the tricks he uses to avoid being watched. She's always been able to keep better track of him than the others."

"Yes, my lord," she said. She paused for a moment, and then stepped closer. "There is one more thing that I have seen."

Wyatt narrowed his eyes, closing the distance between them. "Why do you hesitate?" he demands.

"Because I do not yet know what it means," she said.

"Tell me what you've seen," he demanded.

"He is only a bit older, perhaps just a couple years," she said. "And he is soaked in the tears of the youngest Charmed One."

"Paige?" Wyatt said, his voice catching. He turned away quickly, regretting the weakness. Paige was always a concern. She had made her position against him very clear. He didn't want to think she would have anything to do with the death of his brother, but he couldn't discount it.

"It does not matter in any case," he decided. "You said yourself the future is uncertain. I'll change it."

"I said that his future was unclear," she corrected. "It is certain."

"No one is taking my brother from me," Wyatt told her, his quiet voice echoing off the walls, spinning around them like a promise.

He had lost his mother to a violent death, and his father to revenge. Leo had scoured the underworld looking for the demons responsible for his mother's death, and was abandoned by the elders when he refused to give up his quest. They stripped him of his powers and left him defenseless, like a lamb to the slaughter.

The rest of his family had been hiding from him these last two years. He'd been disowned, he knew. He'd lost all of them, in one way or another. All of them but Chris.

"Tell me again, prophetess," Wyatt said softly. "Does my brother love me?"

"My lord," she said easily. "If in my vision he had loved you any less, he would have lived."


	4. Perry

There was a system of tunnels threaded throughout Wyatt's palace like veins of blood. They were built of cobbled stones and magic, and the only ones that could see them were the ones that Wyatt had said couldn't leave.

They were, Chris thought, his greatest accomplishment.

He had been using the tunnels these last two years to slip out from his brother's watch, and to free prisoners from his dungeons. There was no check in system for prisoners—it was one of Wyatt's very few oversights, considering how thoroughly he had thought through everything else. He simply had witches found by his probes rounded up and locked away.

When one or two went missing, every other night, no one seemed to notice. Not even the other prisoners.

It was the safe way to go about it, but it was a losing battle. For every two that Chris saved, Wyatt had already rounded up five more. It was one of the only things that they ever fought about anymore.

Chris had even begged Wyatt to give them the choice of stripping their powers, so they could join the mortal world. But Wyatt wouldn't condone such a loss of power—he wanted their powers for himself.

Chris just wanted to save them, but he knew he'd never be able to do it through the tunnels, as useful as they were. It took half the night to wind their way around the maze he'd had to build to keep them from being discovered, and leading over a hundred half-starved exhausted refugees through them would be a surefire way to get them all caught.

But now he had a key, a way to orb from here to the world above, without needing to make any stops in-between.

He orbed from his room, appearing in the halls right above the dungeons. He would have to wait until Wyatt had gone to his room for the night to start the rescue, but he wanted to make sure everything was in place. He glanced behind him once before turning towards the stairs that would take him below.

He stuttered to a stop when he saw Bianca leaning up against the doorway.

"And where do you think you're going?" she asked dryly.

There was no trace of whatever had upset her earlier now. She looked like she was made of stone, her almost otherworldly beauty flawless but cold.

"Am I not allowed in the dungeons now?" Chris asked.

"If you're not careful," Bianca said, "you might find yourself there longer than you'd like. You know Lord Wyatt doesn't want you associating with the prisoners."

Chris glared at her, but they both knew it was true. It wasn't exactly an order, but Wyatt had been less than pleased the time Chris had been injured sneaking food to prisoners. It had, Chris would admit, not been one of his finer moments.

His brother had often warned him not to go near the witch-hunters—they were the only mortals that he kept here, but they were put in the worst conditions. There were no trials for them, no reprieves and no escape. _They are not even worth killing, Wyatt_ had told him, when Chris asked why he even bothered to keep them alive at all.

Chris wasn't entirely sure if the witch-hunters had been driven mad within their prison or if they'd started out that way, but when he had gone to them, and tried to slip them food, he'd had his wrist slit open with a chiseled piece of bone. Trying to help them had been a little like trying to help a pack of rabid dogs.

Chris had tried to hide the injury, but Wyatt had found out. He always did.

"Why are you even here, Bianca?" Chris said. "I thought you'd moved onto bigger and better things than looking after me?"

"I was ordered to watch you," she said, glancing away. "And what Wyatt wants, Wyatt gets, isn't that right?"

Chris leaned back against the wall in frustration. If Wyatt had sent one of his demons to watch him, he could have just vanquished them, and apologized to his brother for it later, claiming it was a _misunderstanding_. Chris never could bring himself to hurt Bianca, and wasn't even sure if he actually could.

It was, he thought wryly, probably the very reason that his brother had sent her.

"Well, I won't tell if you won't," Chris tried wearily. "What do you say we just go our separate ways?"

Chris waited for her response, but it never came. He pushed away from the wall, turning to face her in concern. She was looking away from him, her eyes shining brightly, her hands clenched at her sides. When she finally looked back towards him she looked strangely furious.

"Fine," she said. "Do what you want, I don't care."

She moved faster than he could follow, and he was right back against the wall, with her pressed against him. She had her forearm locked against his throat, holding him in place. Chris swallowed anxiously, though he didn't think she'd hurt him.

"Just promise me something," Bianca said. "If you're getting out of this godforsaken place, don't come back."

"Bianca—" Chris started, breaking off as she let him go, stepping away and putting her mask right back into place.

"If you're half as smart as you pretend, you'll get out," Bianca told him. "We both know you don't belong here."

Chris took a step towards her but she shimmered out before he could reach her. He cursed, running a hand a through his hair in irritation. He wanted to follow her, but he knew he couldn't. His contact was waiting for him below, and he didn't have any room here for error.

He let out a breath and then spun on his heel, taking the steps to the dungeon two at a time. There was a man waiting for him at the bottom of the steps—dressed head to toe in black, a worn, scuffed up crossbow hanging loosely from his hand. He looked every inch the darklighter.

Chris laughed. "Daniel," he said. "That's a good look for you."

"Don't you start," Daniel complained. "I feel so dirty."

Daniel was one of the only whitelighters still around. Most survived the massacre of the elders, but nearly all of them disappeared right after. They either ascended off into the after life or gone into hiding, most of them were no help at all.

Daniel had pushed past his pacifist ways to try and make a difference. He didn't do anything like a normal whitelighter—because Chris couldn't think of any other whitelighter, except perhaps his own father, that would have ever thought to go undercover as a darklighter.

Daniel reminded him so much like the stories his mother used to tell him of Leo, even though the man himself had never quite measured up to them.

"Is everything on track?" he asked.

"Yes," Daniel said. "I was able to contact Marc and Grace. They're ready to get out of here whenever you are. What about the guards?"

"I'll vanquish them," Chris said easily. "I can't risk them reporting back to my brother."

"And the demon prisoners?" Daniel asked.

"Them too," Chris said. "Unless you think there are any that might be useful?"

"Only useful demon is a dead demon," Daniel said.

"I think I've corrupted you," Chris said, grinning widely.

Daniel rolled his eyes, and then glanced away awkwardly. "I wanted to tell you, before we get too deep in the mission to talk," he started slowly. "I heard news of your family. They're all fine, but they're, ah, they're looking for you."

Chris closed his eyes for a moment, before shaking his head with a bitter laugh. "For me, or Perry?"

"You're the same person," Daniel said hesitantly.

"Answer the question," Chris said.

"Perry," Daniel said. "They want to join up."

"No," Chris said.

"Chris—"

"It isn't safe for them," Chris said. "And it isn't safe for the rest of you. Wyatt would bring his wrath down on us all if he found out they'd joined the resistance."

"You're the boss, boss," Daniel said. "But we sure could use a few more Halliwells."

"We've been doing just fine without them," Chris insisted. "And that reminds me, there's been a bit of a change in plans."

"Oh?" Daniel prompted.

"Yes," Chris said. "We're not just getting Marc and Grace out. We'll be taking everyone."

Daniel just stared at him for a moment, his eyes going wide. "You want to run that by me again?" he asked. "Because it sounded to me like you were talking crazy."

"You heard me right," Chris said. "I can't leave them there any longer. There are children locked up down there, and I can't—I have a way." He held up the amulet as evidence of the plan. "I've thought it through. I'm getting them out."

"Well you need to rethink it," Daniel said urgently. "I want to get those people out of here just as much as you, but if you do this, Wyatt will suspect you. He's going to find you out. And if we lose you—"

"This is a hundred forty six lives," Chris said. "What's my life against that?"

"You know very well it's not that simple," he hissed. "You do more good here than most of us can hope to do on our little raids. You're the one keeping us hidden. But you can't save any of us if you can't save yourself."

"He wouldn't have given me the key if he didn't trust me," Chris said.

"And what if it's a test?" he demanded. "What if he gave you that just to see what you would do?"

"Then I guess I'm going to fail," Chris said, and started back up the stairs. "Get ready for tonight. We're doing this."

* * *

Chris knew that his plan was a good one. Even if he could only orb out five prisoners at a time, he'd have time to take them all. The demons would be easy to kill, almost too easy. Chris almost felt bad about killing them sometimes, because almost of all of them were too terrified to fight back. They knew very well what Wyatt would do them if they hurt his brother.

The one unknown factor to his plan was Wyatt.

Paige had once called Wyatt a livewire. It used to be a sort of nickname she had for him, back when it was funny. But it was true—that's what he was. Chris knew he was powerful himself, and he had seen the three sisters back when his mother was still alive, felt the power of the Charmed Ones.

And still, it was nothing next to Wyatt.

Wyatt had power coming out of his pores. Chris could feel it whenever they were close, like there were little sparks coming off his skin. He had tried to explain it to Wyatt once, and Wyatt had laughed and told him, that's how all power felt to him. Wyatt could sense magic, could keep track of it or reroute it or stop it in its tracks.

Chris was afraid if he used the key to get every last prisoner out, Wyatt would feel it for sure. He would sense the whitelighter magic if nothing else, even as weakened as his whitelighter senses were.

Chris knew the only way he was going to succeed was if he took Wyatt out of play.

Chris had never used magic against his brother, except for maybe a little telekinesis in one of their scuffles. He had thought about it, back at the beginning. He thought of calling for his family and trying to neutralize Wyatt with some kind of spell.

But his family had never answered him. They'd cloaked themselves completely, severed their connection without mercy. So as messed up as things were, Chris hadn't had anyone but Wyatt. And he couldn't stand the thought of losing him too.

This was different. He couldn't be selfish now—too much depended on him. So he wrote a spell that would keep Wyatt out of his way for the night, one that he was hoping he'd never even notice. Chris knew he was the only one that might be able to make this work, because his magic was familiar to Wyatt, he trusted it. Chris just hoped he trusted it enough not to fight against it, because he was pretty sure Wyatt would win.

Chris couldn't risk orbing directly into Wyatt's room, so he slipped out of his tunnels into the hall beside his rooms. He glanced both ways but didn't see anyone. Wyatt didn't trust his demons to guard him at night. Instead he protected himself against any enemies, sealing his room off magically.

But he'd never thought to protect himself from Chris.

Chris slipped into his bedroom. He'd worn socks but not shoes to keep from making a sound on the cold marble floor of his brother's room. The fireplace along the other wall was lit, the fire sparking madly, but magically contained.

Chris felt a slight chill despite the warm air as he looked over Wyatt's room. It looked some kind of art deco hotel room, not a home. He still remembered the room they'd shared growing up—Wyatt had plastered posters all over the wall.

He stopped beside the bed. Wyatt looked almost innocent in sleep, but he knew he couldn't falter now. Chris closed his eyes and began to speak.

"On this night, ease my plight," he whispered. "Let my brother sleep until first light."

Wyatt let out a low breath, shifting slightly to turn on his stomach. He didn't wake up. Chris backed away, hoping the magic would hold. He stilled when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up just in time to see the firelight bouncing off the hard edge of an athame.

It had to be the luckiest assassin in the world, to have showed up now. Nothing but Halliwell magic could have rendered Wyatt vulnerable to this sort of attack.

The figure took another step and Chris let out a half-formed sound of protest. It was Bianca. He pushed forward, orbing even as he moved, and slammed into her—he pulled them both away the moment they touched, spiriting them back into the hall.

"What are you doing?" Chris hissed, when they reformed. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"I started to worry about you," Bianca said, and she sounded odd. "I came to find you and followed you here. And then I saw him, just laying there—" Bianca looked over at him, her eyes blazing. "You shouldn't have stopped me."

"You were trying to kill my brother," he yelled.

"I was trying to slay a monster!" Bianca protested at once. "Chris, please, look at me. I know you don't want what he wants. I know you don't. We could end this! You don't owe him anything. You don't have to save him."

Chris swallowed hard and watched her. He'd never known she felt this way, she'd always been such a perfect soldier. He wanted to explain that he could no sooner kill Wyatt than he could kill himself. He wanted to make her understand that he loved Wyatt despite everything, that he'd tried to change that but couldn't. He loved him anyway.

But Chris had learned that no one else could understand. The resistance begged him to kill Wyatt all of the time, and they were the best friends he had.

"I wasn't saving him, I was saving you!" Chris said instead, settling for a half-truth. "Did you really think you'd get to him? How do you think I even got you out before you could shimmer away from me? No magic works in that room but his. You would have been dead before you'd touched him."

"So why stop my attempt?" Bianca demanded. "You want to help me?"

"Help you kill him?" Chris demanded. "No, of course not. Help you not get yourself killed? Sure. It's not like I'm busy, thought it might be fun."

Bianca paused, deep in thought, then she turned back to face him. "You said no magic works in his room but his, but that's not true, is it? Because yours did."

"Our magic comes from the same place," Chris said dismissively. He didn't dare mention the spell he'd cast. She would run him through to get Wyatt if she knew. Chris had always known it was a risk to leave Wyatt vulnerable, but he hadn't thought there would be two assassination attempts in one day. He should have known better than that.

"But it's more than that," Bianca says. "He trusts you."

"If he trusts me, it's because he knows I'd never hurt him," Chris says. "And I won't."

"Then you're no better than he is," she sneers.

"I don't remember claiming that I was," Chris said evenly.

"I've heard the rumors," Bianca said tightly. "People are starting to talk. They say you work for Perry."

Chris laughed. "Is that what they say?" he asked. "What is it to you? You definitely don't work for Perry."

"It was my mother," Bianca said quietly, her eyes turning defiant. For a moment Chris couldn't make sense of the non-sequitur, and then it clicked.

The assassin from earlier. The _Phoenix_. Chris didn't know how he hadn't put this together before, except the woman had looked nothing like her.

"I made a deal with Wyatt, to come here, to serve him in representation of my clan," she said. "He promised to leave the rest of them alone. But my mother never agreed with the deal. She wanted to free me."

"So she tried to kill him," Chris realized.

"And killed herself before she could give me away," Bianca agreed. "He probably would have killed me as well, if he'd known who she was."

"I can't let you kill him," Chris said. "It's not that I think you could, but I don't want to watch someone else die in the attempt. Your mother wouldn't have wanted that."

"What do you know about my mother?" Bianca snarled.

"I know enough to know she risked everything to save you," Chris said evenly. "I'd hate to see you throw a sacrifice like that away."

Bianca caught her breath, looking somewhere between furious and distraught. "You don't understand," she said. "You couldn't. Wyatt keeps you out of most of what he does. You don't know the half of it."

"I know more than you think," Chris said. "Bianca, listen to me. I can't help you hurt Wyatt, but I can get you out. He gave me a key."

"And where would I go?" Bianca demanded. "What place is left that he hasn't touched? There's nowhere."

"There's the resistance," Chris said.

"It's made up of children and old men," Bianca sneered. "They're Wyatt's leftovers. The ones he didn't care enough to recruit or kill."

"You shouldn't underestimate them," he said.

Bianca turned to look at him. "You really are working with them, aren't you?" she asked in disbelief. "Do you have any idea at all what your brother would do to you?"

"I thought I was just as bad as him. Why do you care?" he asked, before wincing as he heard an insistent jingling, Daniel calling him. He had to hurry if he had any hope of getting those prisoners out before Wyatt woke up. "Please, just let me get you out of here."

"You think I don't know what you're thinking, but I know you, Chris," Bianca said. "You could never hurt him. I know. I understand. So let me do it. Let me stop him once and for all. You won't have to do a thing."

Some deep dark part of him is tempted. Chris had seen Wyatt do horrible, unforgivable things. He'd watched him practically burn the world, just so he could remake it again.

"Do you really understand?" Chris asked quietly. "Because I don't think you do. It's not because I'm noble. It's not out of some _thou shalt not kill_ ideal."

"Then why?" Bianca asked.

"Because he's my brother," Chris said simply. "And if nothing else, us Halliwells have always been selfish creatures." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he was jingled again. He looked over at Bianca apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't have time for this now," he told her. "On this night, ease my plight—"

"What are you—" Bianca hissed.

"Let her sleep until first light," Chris finished, and Bianca went limp. Chris reached out and caught her before she could hit the ground, orbing them straight to his room and laying her gently on the bed. He grabbed his shoes and then glanced back at where she slept.

"Sweet dreams," he said, before orbing out again.


	5. Split Personalities

"You're late," Daniel said.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Chris said, but didn't explain himself. Saving his brother from his would-be-assassin wasn't actually an excuse he could share with the resistance that wanted to see Wyatt dead.

Chris glanced down at the ashes and scorch marks scattered around the typical guard posts. "It looks like you started without me"

Daniel grinned. "I may have let Marc and Gracie out," he said with a shrug. "They've been having fun."

"Perry," Grace said, appearing behind Daniel. Marc leaned up against the wall behind him. "Daniel said we're getting everyone out? Is it true?"

"Yes," Chris said, stepping over to grab each of their wrists. "And we're starting with the two of you."

Chris felt his magic working as the key let him slip past Wyatt's defenses, taking him to the mortal world. He let out a breath as they appeared in one of the resistance shelters. It was an old abandoned high school, and the air pressure was different here. It was so much lighter, that after being in the underworld so long, Chris felt a little faint.

Grace watched him in concern for a moment, but Chris just took in another deep breath and adjusted to the difference. He had brought them to the pool, which had been drained and used to store weapons. Chris had thought it was funny to turn a school into his base of operation at the time, since Wyatt had taken over Magic School as one of his, but in practice he found it disturbing.

He couldn't deny that it was practical, however. It had a cafeteria, a training area in the gym, and the classrooms were set up as quarters for everyone to sleep. It was also one of the safest places in the world for a witch to be, because Chris had glamoured the entire place to look like ruins. Only witches with good magic could enter the school. Anyone else could wander around for hours, stepping over burned out classrooms and bits of stone. Even Wyatt would not be able to see past the glamour, though Chris was sure he could find some way around it if he ever learned it was there.

"A little warning would have been nice," Marc complained, as he pulled away.

"Sorry," Chris said, and let Grace go, trying to pull himself together. He glanced around to assess the state of the school. He hadn't been able to get away from his brother long enough to come here since he had set up. It was too dangerous, most of the time, to risk Wyatt or one of his guards following him.

"You guys need to get everything ready for the others," Chris said. "They're going to need food, a place to sleep. Do you have enough?"

"We'll manage," Grace said. "Just get them here."

Chris nodded and appeared back in the dungeons. It was easier orbing through Wyatt's magic this time, but it was taking more effort to bypass it than it ordinarily did to orb. Daniel glanced up as he appeared again.

"Ready to get started?" Daniel asked. "We need to get them out of here before your brother realizes what's happening."

Chris shook his head. "Lord Wyatt won't be causing us any trouble tonight," he said, pausing when he noticed the assessing look Daniel was giving him. "What?"

"You always do that," Daniel said. "You pretend that Lord Wyatt and your brother aren't the same person. That you're not the same person as Perry. I don't think it's healthy."

"Daniel, my brother is the ruler of three worlds. I've watched him threaten, torture, and kill people we both used to know, then turn around and make me sit down to a nice family dinner," Chris said slowly. "I think I'm about as well-adjusted as I'm going to get."

"Okay, fair point," Daniel said awkwardly, rubbing a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Look, Perry, I just meant—I just mean, maybe you should come with us."

Chris frowned, glancing over at him. "What?"

"Let's go with your plan," Daniel said. "Let's get these people out of here, and then you go with them."

"I can't leave," Chris protested at once. "Trust me, things will get much, much worse for everyone if I do."

"And what if he knows it was you? Things are going to get worse anyway," Daniel said in frustration. "It's time to get out. Cut your losses. You knew this would happen eventually!"

"No," Chris said. "If I have to leave, if I don't have a choice, then I will. But even if that happens, I still can't go with you. Because wherever I go, my brother will find me, and I can't risk leading him to you."

Daniel turned to glare at the wall. "We'd be willing to take that risk, you know that," he said. "There isn't a person in the resistance that wouldn't die for you."

"And what kind of leader would I be if I let them?" Chris asked quietly.

"Like any other leader there ever was," Daniel said dryly.

"You're forgetting that I never wanted to be a leader in the first place," Chris said. "I don't plan on playing by the rules."

"Do you ever?" Daniel asked, his voice somewhere between frustrated and amused. "I know better than to argue with you. Just go do your thing."

Chris grinned and then grew serious as he stepped into the dungeons. The prisoners here almost all knew him. Some dropped their eyes, some dropped to their knees—every last one of them looked terrified. They knew him only as Lord Christopher, after all.

They knew him as Lord Wyatt's strategist, the one that had mapped out the battles that had lost them their homes. They didn't know him as Perry, the one that had planned out the battles so that their lives wouldn't be lost.

He flicked his wrist and the locks all twisted and released at once, sending the cell doors creeping open an inch. The prisoners watched him warily, not leaving the cells even now that they could. He lowered his hands, pointing the palms towards the ground, a telekinetic's show of submission.

"Hi, everyone. This is Daniel, and he's come to help," Chris said, nodding his head towards Daniel. "Daniel, show them what you are."

Daniel's black clothes disappeared, replaced by the traditional white robes worn by whitelighters, back when they'd still had ceremonies to attend. The prisoners looked at him in disbelief. Most witches hadn't seen a whitelighter since before Wyatt had taken over the world above.

"Daniel asked me to get you all out of here, but if I'm going to do that, you're going to have to trust us," Chris said.

"How can we trust you?" a woman asked quietly, stepping in front of her children.

"Because if I meant you harm, you couldn't stop me," Chris said simply. "Because you don't have any other choice."

"You have my word as a whitelighter that you'll be safe," Daniel said. He turned to Chris. "You have to tell them your name. Tell them who you really are."

Chris swallowed. It was always a hard thing for him to acknowledge, as he'd much rather pretend it was some other person. Daniel never understood that, and he'd never understood that Chris really was Lord Christopher, too.

Chris stepped forward. "You might know me as Lord Christopher," he said. "But my friends call me Perry."

Chris could see the looks of disbelief and shock on their faces as it slowly morphed into understanding. Chris had spun Perry into legend without quite meaning to—because Perry had pulled off the impossible, more than a few times, by having the particular talent of being two people at once. They wouldn't be able to deny it, because while it was something that few would ever suspect, in hindsight he knew it was the only thing that made any sense.

"So," he said quietly, and held out his hand. "Who wants to get out of here?"

* * *

Chris orbed the last of the prisoners to the school and then returned. As he materialized back in the underworld, he felt his knees give out. Daniel rushed forward, grabbing him around the waist to hold him up. "Perry? What—"

Chris pressed his eyes closed. "Sorry," he said. "Even with the key it's a fight against Wyatt's magic every time I orb out of here."

It had been getting harder and harder to get people to safety as the night went on. He took as many with him at a time as he could, but he didn't want to risk more than five. That was hard enough with Wyatt's magic pressing back on him. It had taken longer to get everyone out than he had hoped.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Daniel demanded, as Chris caught his balance again and stumbled away. "You could have given me the key, I could have taken a turn."

Chris shook his head. "I'm pretty sure it's coded to me," he said. "Couldn't take the risk." He looked back at Daniel. "Are you going to the base?"

"No," Daniel said. "I have still have contacts I need to meet down here, but I will be getting the hell out of the palace. I don't need Wyatt coming to look for me when he finds out the prisoners are all gone."

Chris nodded, and waved a hand across the wall. One of his tunnels appeared. "This might save you some time," he said.

Daniel started towards it, but looked back at Chris before he left. "You need to get back to your room," he said. "And if Wyatt suspects—you have to get out of here, Perry. You have to run. Promise me."

"I promise," Chris said. "I know what's at stake."

Daniel nodded and entered the tunnel. Chris waved his hand again as he started towards the stairs, and the wall closed up again. He sluggishly made his way up the staircase and out into the hall, his magic too strained to attempt to orb.

He was already halfway down the hall when he noticed there was simulated light coming through the windows. The enchanted windows were timed to the world above. He was out of time. The spell would have come undone.

Chris took off more quickly, nearly tripping as he took a corner fast. His palm hit the wall and he caught himself against it. He righted himself and started rushing back down the hall.

And ran straight into Wyatt.

Wyatt grabbed his shoulders, steadying him before Chris react enough to step out of reach. Chris went into survival mode on automatic—he let his expression go blank, pushed all thoughts of Perry from his mind, became Lord Christopher instead. Wyatt's mischievous little brother had much greater experience at talking himself out of trouble.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" Wyatt asked.

His voice didn't sound accusing, he sounded _amused_. Chris felt his blood run cold.

"Calm down," Wyatt ordered in exasperation. "I'm not mad. I think it's a good thing."

Chris watched his brother carefully, not giving anything away. They couldn't possibly be thinking of the same thing. "What, exactly, do you think you know?" he asked, adding a little wry amusement to his tone, like nothing was wrong at all.

"About you and Bianca," Wyatt explained. "I went to check on you, and found her sleeping in your bed."

Chris felt the relief surge through him, though he knew he'd only bought himself time. The alarm would be going up soon, and he'd been seen near the scene of the crime. "Right," he said, scrubbing a hand though his hair. "Uh, about that, we're not really—"

"What's wrong with you?" Wyatt demanded suddenly, releasing his shoulder to grab his chin. Chris hated when Wyatt did that. "You look ill."

"I just haven't been sleeping," Chris lied.

"Is that why you're wandering the halls alone this early?" Wyatt demanded. "I thought I was clear. I'm willing to forgive Bianca for allowing it this once, but you will have a new guard this morning."

"I don't need a guard, Wyatt," Chris protested immediately. "You're being—"

"Do not argue with me," Wyatt snapped. "I ordered Bianca to stay by your side and she failed me. You're lucky I'm in such a forgiving mood, or I might not have left her where I found her."

"Okay," Chris said quickly. He knew whether he'd meant to or not he'd just turned Bianca into a pawn—she was something Wyatt could use against him now. Leverage. And if even if their relationship wasn't what Wyatt thought, Chris wouldn't let her get hurt because of him. "Really, I won't even kill this one."

"Good," Wyatt said, smiling slightly as he stepped around him. "Try not to sleep with this one, either."

Chris watched him go for a moment before turning and running back down the hall. If Wyatt was up, so was Bianca. He had to get to her before she slipped off and did something stupid. They had enough trouble coming for them as it was.

Chris seriously doubted his brother's forgiving attitude would hold, once someone sounded the alarm.


	6. New Recruit

Note: So, those other Halliwells will eventually show up! I had a pretty simple outline for this story, but it's taking a bit longer to get from Point A to Point B than I'd planned. Thanks to everyone for the reviews and follows! Hopefully the story won't disappoint.

* * *

"You son of a bitch!" Bianca cursed at him, the moment he pushed into his room. An athame came straight at him, and he fell back at the door. It hit the wall beside him, vibrating in place from the force of her throw, and Chris watched it for a moment with disbelief before turning back to her.

At least he knew she hadn't actually been planning to kill him. Bianca didn't ever miss.

"Don't you ever, I mean ever, use a spell on me again," she snapped. "Are we clear?"

"So we're just going to ignore the part where I saved your life then?" Chris asked dryly, tossing her a grin.

Bianca stalked towards him, and leaned in close enough to touch, though she didn't. Without taking her eyes off of him, she reached up to drag her athame out of the wall. "Like I said," she said coolly. "Don't do it again."

"After this?" Chris said, falsely cheerful. "No problem. I'll just watch Wyatt kill you next time."

Bianca ignored him, moving on without acknowledging him. Chris had tried to lead her into bantering with him more than once—she always managed to avoid it by not bothering to match up her side of the conversation to his. "I went through your things when I woke," she said. "I was hoping to find something useful. No luck there."

Chris narrowed his eyes as he realized she'd pulled out all of the books and documents he had hidden. "How did you—" he started.

"Please, I taught you that spell, remember?" Bianca asked.

Chris remembered. He'd been sixteen at the time, and she had been his constant shadow. Chris had tried to slip out of her watch one too many times and she was getting frustrated with him. Unlike all of his other guards, however, she understood and she knew the lack of privacy was getting to him.

She had taught him a spell to enchant objects he didn't want found, that would make them invisible to all but him. It hadn't really occurred to him at the time, but of course she knew the counter-spell just as well.

"Is that why you taught it to me?" he demanded, trying to keep the hurt from his voice. "So you could spy on me? See what I was trying to hide?"

"No," Bianca said. "I've never had reason to need to until now. But this? A History of King Arthur? Reversing morality? Cleansing your aura?" Her voice was scathing. "That's a little like trying to take out a Brute demon with a nail file, don't you think?"

"I thought I'd heard you'd done that," Chris said dryly.

"Don't play games with me, Christopher," Bianca snapped. "What the hell is all this?"

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Chris said, reaching over to take one of his spellbooks from her hands. "We've got bigger problems right now. I need to know you're not going to try and kill Wyatt again."

"I'll kill him the first chance I get," Bianca said simply. "It's certainly a better plan than yours. What exactly are you expecting to happen? You're going to sprinkle him with fairy dust and turn him into Prince Charming?"

"I think you're mixing up your Disney, and it's just research," Chris said. "We both know if I'd found anything that would work we wouldn't be having this conversation. But I will find something, and in the meantime, I need you to promise me you won't kill him."

"He needs to die for what he's done," Bianca said, her eyes sparking. "For the same reasons you can't kill him, I ihave to/i. Can't you understand? He needs to die."

"And what then? Everything just goes back to how it was? It's too late, Bianca!" Chris told her. "He may have been the one to destroy the world in the first place, but like it or not, he's the only thing holding together what's left of it. If he were killed it would be chaos, because there's no one else. No Elders, to save us. No Cleaners, to make this whole thing disappear. Just mortals and witches and demons, with nothing to keep them from slaughtering each other except for him."

"I thought your reasons for keeping him alive weren't noble," she said.

"Yes, and that's my reason, and mine alone," Chris said. "It doesn't mean there aren't other reasons killing him is a bad idea."

"You could take his place," Bianca said.

Chris laughed. "What?"

"You said there's no one else, but there is," Bianca insisted. "There's you."

"I don't have my brother's power, even if I did have any wish to take his place," Chris said. "Don't you see there's only one thing to do? We have to make Wyatt into the leader he was supposed to be. I have to fix him—"

"Fix him?" Bianca demanded, holding up a pile of his papers with disbelief. "You really think any of this is ever going to do a bit of good? He's evil, Chris. He's pure evil."

"But he's not," Chris protested. "He's done evil things, but he's not evil, not yet. The only reason that he started all of this was because he wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to protect us."

"I really hadn't expected you would be this naive," Bianca said. "First he took the world below, then he took the world above, and then he took everything in-between. All because he could. And you want to make him better, you want to fix him so he's a benevolent lord to his disciples? That's your plan?"

"If I can save him," Chris said, "he can save everyone else."

"This isn't about saving Wyatt, Chris," Bianca snapped. "This about saving yourself. This about getting your big brother back so he can take care of things and you won't have to. You need to face up to facts, because you're probably right that I won't ever get close enough to Wyatt to kill him. You're the only one that could stop him."

"I can't—" Chris said in frustration. "I told you, I—"

"I get that you're scared of him, but you have to do something," Bianca insisted. "You can't just keep standing by on the sidelines, watching this all happen, doing nothing. I know. I've done it myself a hell of a lot longer than you, so I get it. But you can't do it anymore. We can't do it anymore."

"I'm not!" Chris insisted.

"You need to get proactive," she continued, ignoring his protests. "You need to grow the hell up!"

"I am plenty proactive," Chris said. "You can trust me on that!"

"How?" she demanded. "What have you done? Nothing but petty teenage rebellion, maybe tossed a few bits of information to Perry?"

"I am Perry!" he shouted.

Bianca went very still. She seemed to pale a bit as she brought up one hand to clutch at her neck.

"How's that for proactive?" Chris asked awkwardly, as Bianca just continued to stare at him in shock. "Good enough?"

"Oh, by the fires," she gasped, dropping down to sit on the bed. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"You know me, always have a back up plan," Chris said, as he dropped down to sit beside her.

"Oh god," Bianca said. "I don't even—how is that possible? How have you managed to keep this under wraps?"

"By being cautious," Chris said. "You know. Until now. And last night. When I sort of orbed out all of Wyatt's prisoners."

Bianca jumped to her feet. "You did what?" she asked. "How stupid can you get?"

"Hey!" Chris protested. "You just told me I needed to start doing something!"

"I know, I know what I said," Bianca said, looking frustrated with herself. "And I meant it! But I never actually thought you'd turn against him."

"I didn't, exactly," Chris said. "I was never really with him in the first place."

Bianca looked at him with wide eyes. "You've been playing him. All this time," she said, sounding breathless. "You've been playing us all."

"Yes," he said.

"You're taking quite the chance, trusting me with this," Bianca said.

"You can't tell Wyatt, for your own sake," Chris said quickly, getting to his feet to stand in front of her. "If you tried, he wouldn't believe you. He'd kill you. I don't want that to happen."

"Where does that leave us, then?" Bianca asked.

"I meant what I said, I can get you out of here," Chris said. "Wyatt gave me a key. I can take you anywhere."

"I don't want to run from this anymore," Bianca decided, looking up at him.

Chris grinned. "Then we won't," he said.


	7. Scapegoat

Chris anxiously paced the floor of his room. The alarm had gone up an hour ago, and Bianca had left to find out what Wyatt was doing about it. She had insisted Chris stay here, rather than risk Wyatt's wrath. It was one of Wyatt's rules that Chris stay in his room if an alarm was sounded until Wyatt came for him, but he didn't like it one bit.

Usually he'd ignore it, but Bianca was right. If Wyatt was angry with him, it would be better to be where he was supposed to be. He knew if he tried to hide Wyatt would find him.

The door opened and Bianca slipped inside, closing it behind her.

"What's going on?" Chris demanded.

"You're to stay here, Wyatt's orders," Bianca said. "He's keeping me on as your guard for now, because he doesn't trust anyone at the moment."

"Then he suspects me?" Chris asked.

"No," Bianca said, but she wasn't meeting his eyes. "He's more worried about your safety than anything else. He thinks this is related to the assassination attempts. He thinks someone is trying to overthrow him."

"Wyatt's not stupid," Chris said. "He must at least suspect me. You're not telling me something."

"He doesn't suspect you because he believes the culprit has already been caught," Bianca said calmly. "So there's nothing you need to worry about."

"That sounds pretty worrying," Chris snapped. "Is it Daniel? Did he capture him? Because there's no way I'm letting him die for me—"

"It's not Daniel," Bianca said. "And he probably won't kill the one he's caught."

"Of course he will!" Chris said at once. "Maybe not right away, but that's worse. The only reason he wouldn't was if—" Chris broke off, his eyes widening in horror. "Bianca, who does he think did this?"

"He decided only a Halliwell could have pulled it off," Bianca said quietly. "And it just so happens that a Halliwell was caught trespassing this morning."

"No," Chris whispered. He ran his hands through his hair. "Who?"

"One of the Charmed Ones," Bianca said reluctantly.

"You don't know which one?" Chris demanded.

"Does it matter?" she asked.

"No," Chris admitted. "Not really. I'll have to confess either way."

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you!" Bianca hissed. "Whichever one it is, the other will come for them, and they'll be fine. You just need to keep your mouth shut until this all blows over."

"I think you know me better than that," Chris said, as he tried to move around her.

She pushed him back, not moving from the doorway. "So what?" she asked. "You run in there and tell him everything? What will that accomplish? You'll just end up in the cell beside them! He'll never believe that a Charmed One being here at the same time as this escape was a coincidence. He might not even believe you now if you try to take credit for it."

Chris laughed incredulously, as he realized Bianca might be right. If he went running to Wyatt now claiming he'd done the whole thing, Wyatt would think he was only trying to save his aunt. He had to be smart about this. "No, you're right," he said. "He might not believe I was behind it. But luckily I have another I can blame."

"Who?" Bianca asked.

"Perry," Chris said simply.

"You don't want to call attention to him, either," Bianca insisted. "So far Wyatt's been writing Perry off as a nuisance, because no one ever sells him out. If one of the resistance is caught they always insist they're working on their own. I've always wondered how you keep the resistance so loyal to you."

"They did it to themselves," Chris said, but didn't explain. "This is the whole reason I made Perry in the first place, to draw his eye away from me. Now I've got to use him to save my family."

"You really think they'd lift a finger for you?" Bianca asked coldly.

Chris tried not to flinch. He still had a strange empty space in his mind from where his family had cut their connection. They'd never given him a chance to explain, because they hadn't wanted to risk him leading Wyatt to them. He understood it, logically. He knew why they thought they couldn't trust him.

But it didn't make it any easier.

"I made Lord Christopher just as I made Perry," he said quietly. "And I've got to deal with the consequences of being both." He looked away from her. "Where are they keeping her?"

"I'm not sure," Bianca said. "Wyatt is keeping the whole thing under wraps, I didn't hear any of this from him. I think he's trying to keep it from you."

Chris nodded. "I know where she'll be," he said, and closed his eyes before orbing out.

He appeared in his own personal wing of the dungeon. Chris used to jokingly call it the Tower of London. It was the only cell Wyatt ever used for him. It looked almost exactly like all the others, except that there was a four-poster bed in the middle of the room, silken quilts and lavender sheets carefully made up on top of it. _A prison fit for a prince_, Wyatt had told him mockingly, the first time he locked him up there.

It always had more the feel of a 'time-out' to it than 'hard time.' Chris never really got the full effect of being locked in the dungeon, and he'd never really been hurt. Wyatt wouldn't allow it. Everyone knew that he was mostly just punishing him for show.

Paige was another story entirely.

He could see a bruise down half her face, and her lip was split open so much her lips were glossed over with blood. She was huddled in on herself, her dark brown hair falling around her face, the few grey streaks catching on the light and making her look haloed.

Chris felt his hands clench, and wished that he could take her pain away. That he could fix her. But that power had never been his.

It was the one power of Wyatt's that he actually envied.

Paige looked up and met his eyes, and Chris had to fight not to stagger back at the anger in them. He had known, somehow, that it was Paige he would find here. He couldn't see her having allowed Phoebe to come alone, for all that Paige was the youngest one. Chris and Paige had always had that in common—the way they were protective of their family, despite being the youngest.

"Well, look at you," Paige said weakly, her voice cracking strangely. "All grown up."

"What were you thinking, coming here?" Chris asked quietly. He'd been trying so hard, for so long, to keep their family off Wyatt's radar. Wyatt had mentioned more than once trying to find them and bring them into the fold, but Chris knew that would end only one way.

"You look just like her, you know," Paige said, ignoring his question. "God. Every little bit of you. I wonder what your parents would think, if they could see you now?"

"I couldn't care less what Leo might think," Chris said. "But I know my mother would understand what I've done, even if she didn't agree with it."

"Then you're just as delusional as Wyatt," she said.

Chris knelt down in front of the bars, frowning as he tried to assess just how injured she was. "I know this wasn't you," he said. "I know it was Perry. You just have to tell Wyatt the truth."

"You think I'm going to sell someone out to save myself?" Paige demanded. "Didn't we teach you anything?"

"You taught me a lot," Chris agreed. "And I'm trying to do what I can with it. I'm trying to help as much as I can."

Paige proudly forced herself to her feet, one hand shooting out to balance herself on the bars before looking down at him with disdain.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Chris?" she asked. "Wyatt is smart and he's strong and he took this world over all by himself, in one fell swoop. But he's never been clever like you're clever, and he only managed it because no one stood a chance against him. He's not a strategist. Not like you."

"Paige," Chris started, but didn't rise to his feet. He'd let Paige feel like she had the higher ground, if that was what she wanted.

"I've seen Wyatt's battles before," she said tightly. "I've been in them. And they've always had your name written all over them, even more than his."

"You have to understand, this was for the best," Chris said pleadingly. "By the time Wyatt came to us it was too late to do anything else. There was never the option of going back to how things were."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Paige snarled.

Chris could tell her the truth. He could tell her he's been lying to Wyatt about agreeing with him, that he's been undermining him every chance he gets, mitigating the damage wherever he can. But part of the reason that Chris had managed this for so long was that it was so hard to believe.

Bianca had told him even Wyatt probably wouldn't believe him even if he confessed, and Paige definitely wouldn't.

He steeled himself and got back to his feet, trying to stay focused on what was important. Trying to get Paige to forgive him here wasn't the goal—getting her out of here was. "What were you doing here?" he asked. "Why would you have come here now?"

"Is this good cop bad cop?" Paige demanded. "Wyatt smacks me around and then you come and play the gentle nursemaid? I'm not telling you a thing."

"I already know you didn't have anything to do with this," Chris said. "I'm just asking why you were really here. I want to help."

"I came here to get the prisoners out," Paige said simply, and Chris turned away in frustration. She seemed determined to take the blame, but he couldn't figure out why.

"Perry did this," he said tightly. "I know he did. And I know you don't work for him. Why are you confessing to something you didn't do?"

Paige watched him for a moment, examining him closer than he liked. "Wyatt believed me when I confessed," she said finally. "He didn't say a thing about Perry."

"I can talk him around, if you just tell me the truth," Chris insisted.

"What interests me is how you can be so certain of what really happened last night," Paige said. "When Wyatt, our self-professed lord of everything, doesn't have a clue."

"I have contacts within Perry's inner circle," Chris said dismissively, trying to brush past it. "So don't bother trying to take credit for this with me. I know Perry doesn't have anything to do with you."

Paige shrugged, and that's when Chris realized what she was doing. _They're looking for you_, Daniel had told him. And what better way to get an elusive resistance fighter's attention than to take credit for one of his jobs?

After all, it had worked.

She thought she was helping the cause by taking the blame on herself. She expected to get out and have Perry's gratitude, so they could join up together to take Wyatt down. And he had no way to explain why that wouldn't work.

"If you're not going to tell Wyatt the truth, then I will," Chris told her. "I will get you out of here, Paige, whether you want me to or not."

Chris orbed out of the dungeons without waiting for her reply, appearing in the halls above. He leaned against the wall and tried to steady his breathing. He'd seen people he had known before, on the other side of the bars, looking at him like an enemy.

But never his family.

Chris had known what he was getting into, from the start. He knew for this to work they'd have to disown him—because if they'd known the truth, they never would have let him stay.

Everything was going exactly according to plan. He just hadn't expected it to hurt quite this much.


End file.
